Hamburger Spring Rolls
by Canadino
Summary: America, the land of the free home of the brave, decides that he must spread his awesomeness to everyone. China is his victim this time around. Can you say hamburger spring rolls? Goodness, not AMERICAN Chinese food...


**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: --

**Minimal fluff 09!**

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Hamburger Spring Rolls

"Hey China, wanna come over? I got some really good stuff to show you!"

At first, it seemed like an appropriate invitation and a perfect excuse to leave his house. China had been feeling rather stuffed staying at home all day and visiting America would give him a good stretch. However, after hanging up and thinking about it, America really was the worst person to visit, second after Russia. China was extremely old, thus endowed with infinite wisdom after the years of turmoil and hardships, and he knew a bad invitation when he heard one.

He had to find a victim to accompany him.

Japan picked up on the third ring. "Moshi moshi?"

"Wai, Japan? Are you free tomorrow? Want to go visit America with me, aru?"

"America?" Japan asked, before a long pause. "Wait, let me check my schedule." There was a silence and then a click. China stared at his rotary and blinked. The connection had been cut off. Attempting to call again, China found that he couldn't get through no matter how many times he called and was always forwarded to voicemail. Perhaps Japan had had an accident or something.

Although he really didn't want to, he needed the company and found himself calling Korea. However, when China spelled out that Korea was not allowed to do any groping, the disgruntled nation hung up loudly on him. A no go there either.

He tried Taiwan, but she had quickly rushed that she was busy and no, she would not want to visit America anyway and hung up almost as briskly as Korea. China was running out of options. Would no Asian nation accompany him on his journey to hell (America's house)?

Ah! Of course! How could he have forgotten! "Hello, Hong Kong? Are you free tomorrow, aru? Would you like to visit America's house with me, aru?" Crossing his fingers, he prayed the stoic little island would agree. After all, Hong Kong was also called a mixture of the east and west and should have no problem mingling with a westerner like America.

"America…?" This was starting to sound oddly like Japan and China had his finger poised to recall Hong Kong again when the island responded. "I guess so. I don't mind."

"Yes! Ahem, I mean, aru…that's great. You can suff…you can come with me." After exchanging trivial pleasantries, China heaved a great sigh of relief and got ready to face the challenges that awaited him the next day.

No amount of sleep in the world would prepare him for America's house.

First of all, everything was HUGE. The people were huge, towering over him and staring at him and Hong Kong as if they had never seen people before. Hong Kong took it all in stride and walked beside China as if he belonged there his whole life. The sidewalks were huge and it was a mystery in itself how so many people could fit onto it. China gasped and grabbed Hong Kong's arm.

"Hong Kong! That rat's as big as a dog!"

"…China, that _is_ a dog."

America stood in front of a building, a few blocks away from the dog scene, waving at them in the crowd. "Oy! China! Hong Kong!" The loudmouth nation earned a few odd glances but when had it been in America's nature to care? China grabbed Hong Kong and rushed up to him, eager to get the whole shebang over with.

"Hi, America, aru!" China reached into his pockets and pulled out a bag of sweets. "Would you like one, aru?"

"No thanks. I wouldn't want to ruin my appetite. Look!" Throwing his hands over his head toward a flashing sign, America turned to China. "Do you like? Do you like?!"

China looked up at a gaudy sign with blaring primary colors and very badly written Chinese. It was obviously a sign to a very bad restaurant and the oriental English letters read 'Oriental Gateway' with flashing neon lights next to it. China continued staring up at it and oddly it felt as if he were standing naked on the sidewalk. It really was that embarrassing.

"America," Hong Kong piped up, looking amused. "What is that supposed to say?" He pointed at the Chinese words and China had to wonder the same.

"Oh that? It means 'oriental gateway', of course!" America beamed. "It's a new Chinese restaurant! I made it, so it's awesome! Let's go in!" Ignoring the fact that the two Asian nations looked bewildered, he opened the door and entered without even holding it out for the two to enter. Hong Kong turned to China.

"Can you read that?"

"It looks like a bunch of criss-crossed strokes to me, aru," China muttered. "Can we leave?"

Hong Kong shrugged but before they could escape, America opened the door again. "Oy, lazybones! What's wrong? Come on!" Without another word, he grabbed the two and pulled them in.

China had always known looks could be deceiving – after all, Japan had been a docile little brother and look what happened there – but America proved that sometimes looks can be as real as it gets. And indeed, the tacky sign should have prepared him for the interior. He should have known that browning bamboo would be the first thing to greet him, along with an Asian (note Asian, not Chinese) waitress in a cheap oriental dress. There were random posters of badly written calligraphy (the person who wrote the sign also apparently did the decorations) plastered all over the walls. The walls themselves had an odd design that was supposed to be Asian but failed miserably. In short, it was a very bad imitation of China.

And yet it was jam packed with America's people, eating and having a good time. China glanced at Hong Kong again but the island's face had a blank look on it. Finally making their way to a table in the back, the three nations finally settled down and the waitress set down their tea. Glad for a familiar object, China poured the three of them tea before reaching for his cup. However, the waitress was not done yet and put a few packets of sugar on the table before leaving. Despite the porcelain cup was burning his fingers with the tea, China stared at the sugar packets, which America picked up.

"Why did she just give us sugar, aru?"

"To put in the tea, of course! You don't drink it like that, do you?" America laughed at China's question and emptied three packets into his drink. "And obviously you can't drink it that hot," he added, picking out an ice cube from his water. After mutilating his tea, America drank it and sighed happily. China stared dumbfoundedly. Hong Kong seemed to be trying to suppress a smile as he brought the cup up to his lips, the tea unsoiled by ice or sugar.

"So, China, what do you like to eat?"

China, startled at the question, put his tea cup down. "Well, aru, at my house…"

"Do you eat a lot of sweet and sour chicken?"

China gaped. "Um…well…not really…"

"What?! What about General Tsao's chicken?"

America really had a fetish for chicken, didn't he? And who in their right mind would name food after a person? Then again, America won on that as well; he named food after places (can anyone say KFC? Oh, and another chicken reference again). China wondered if it would be worth it to actually explain anything to him. He knew the young ones usually didn't listen to their elders anyway. England had a time trying to talk sense into America and gave up in the last century or so.

Before China could even open his mouth, the waitress was back again and America found it completely necessary to order for him and the now open-mouthed nation. He turned to Hong Kong. "Hong Kong, what would you like?"

"I ate before, thanks," Hong Kong said politely, reclining with a hint of a smile. China glanced at him; he knew for a fact that neither one of them had eaten breakfast that day.

Surprisingly, the food came out faster than China had expected, but when he finally looked at it, he really found he wasn't surprised in the slightest. The rice had a strange brown quality to them and was a lot grainier than he thought. The chicken and vegetables were covered in a strange clear glaze and the sauce that accompanied it was redder than blood and as thin as water. Picking at the oddly colored food, China looked up expecting America to be picking at the unappetizing food at the same way but was surprised to see that the huge plate in front of him was finished and America was now gnawing on some spring rolls.

"What are those?" China asked in a hushed voice. Something weirdly brown was falling out of the spring roll. He thought only vegetables belonged there.

"Oh, this? It's a twist in the recipe. It's hamburger."

China pushed away his plate. "I had a nip to eat at Hong Kong's, aru, so I'm not really that hunger either." Hong Kong gave him a look that seemed to say 'Get-an-excuse-of-your-own' but China could have been mistaken. America looked crestfallen until he pointed at the unfinished food. "Can I have it then?"

China thought that it was cruel enough to have his own little brother turn against him but watching America eat what couldn't even be considered food was even worse. "Did you know," China mused, "that some of your restaurants scrape off the rice from a previous visitor's plate onto yours?" The statement had immediate effect and America almost gagged.

"Are you serious?! That's not awesome at all!" Next to him, Hong Kong seemed to be chuckling but revealed to be coughing into his napkin. "Let me have a word with the manager."

When America rushed to the kitchen, China flagged over the waitress, who looked bored. "Excuse me, aru, but do you think you could direct me to a place with actual Chinese food?" Heck, he wasn't known for beating around the bush.

The waitress stared at him, before scanning the room and leaning down. "Personally, sir, I'm embarrassed that your friend took you here. There should be a nice place down the street but it's not as flashy so no one goes there. The owner's from the mainland so it should be to your liking." Smiling a plastic grin, the waitress straightened up. "So, would you like the tab?"

"Ah, no. Put it on the young man's tab right here." China pointed to America's vacated seat. "He'll be back to pay, I promise you, aru. Come on, Hong Kong." Hong Kong stood up with a wisp of a smile on his face and followed China out.

"Remind me next time," China said as they walked down the busy sidewalk, "never to agree to any of America's lunch dates ever again."

Hong Kong, who hadn't really been one with words, finally broke his silence and laughed louder than China had thought possible. "Really, China. Hamburger spring rolls?"

Owari

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Note: I went out to eat lunch with a few of my friends the other day. Much to say, this ensued. The worst part is that the restaurant isn't a bad one either; you just need to know how to order. Thankfully, I wasn't on the American end of the lunch if you know what I mean. (laughs) Review, or I'll kung-pow chicken you.


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